I straddled her body. My fingers brushed along her inner thighs under her dress. She moaned as I prodded into her swollen wet pussy, sliding a finger ...long the center to rub her clit. I pulled the zipper down and slid the fabric from her body. My tongue slowly laved a path along her inner thigh to the shallow indentation of her belly. She spread her legs and touched herself as I held a slice of lime and brushed it generously over her nipples until they were wet. I licked the remains of the salt. “Well, I ordered every member of the crew of Corsica to attend a training session. I’m assuming Mister...” I said with a long pause“Morgan,” the man said. “Anders Morgan. I’m supposed to be one of your missile techs.”“Come on in,” I offered. “Just head to the right and stick to the open area.”“But I’m a missile tech. Why do I need to see the bridge simulator?” the man asked as he entered.His fellow complainer followed. The other man was also in his late thirties with a pot belly and a strange. To her it was the kind of thing that just was, and had been as long as either could remember. Eddie always seemed comfortable teasing his mother in ways that should have been far beyond his years. Long hugs, lingering kisses, and wandering hands seemed to be part of the familiar nature of their relationship.The fact that they were mother and son only seemed to make it better for them both.Eddie's attentions kept his mother running at a high pitch. Her pussy was always most and itchy when her. In it she gave a full account of what Liam had done, both at the conference and at the midsummer’s party, with the assurance of absolute documented proof that what she wrote was true.She finished by leaving it up to the recipient what to do about it. She received a host of phone calls asking if it were true and assured everyone it was, citing the proof she had. Some came to examine the evidence, and went away convinced.In the meantime Ryan visited Liam. Dermott happened to be there. Liam.
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